The muzzle flash of the moon is infused with clouds
where the brightness tapers off on knees that poke through
the slit in her dress; the hem slips off her crossed legs.
Gunpowder in sieves flecks her irises
when she glimpses through my lunar haze
of daydreams that I'll trigger her to smile.
A Guns N' Roses song flogs silence in the back-
ground of my mind as she stands to shake
hands I synchronously half-rotate to kiss.
Her wedding ring tastes like zinc, or some strange kettle
of moondust while she avers that I look as pale
as mists conspiring to discover our trail.
Though we can't see her butler crack the whip to keep
a distant carriage in place,
whinnying clouds beam a grin to her face.
In my dreams I am outrunning horses
They strive to catch up, whinnying and neighing
I laugh; my hair is streaming so hard in their faces.
I am now the wind, catching them up in an exuberant way
I fling them onto a mountain top with other horses, free and wild.
They nod their approval, knowing I will send a helicopter full of oats and hay.
Even though I fear horses, I wish them well.
Even in my dreams.
Two young lovers discern from up afar
a night heron in its graceful lithe flight
searching safe haven as storm hide its star
danger threatening it from its dire plight.
An owl's screech piercing the veiled evenfall.
Lightning flashes generate fear, hope lost
in their cold arms near a gnarled oak they stall,
trembling and afraid of the falling frost.
Far off they hear the whinnying of mares,
The bellow of bulls but the rain falls hard,
relieved they could not hold back their hot tears
they see light shining within a backyard.
A farmer helps them with hot food-laden.
Like the heron, find their cosy haven.
( Magic nine )
Peaceful, serenity, green lush pastures,
Shadows reflected by the surounding hills,
Blue granite painted by grand masters,
Clear waters, stream flowing gallantly
Gracefully timeless, free of disasters,
Home of a ghostly herd of white horses
Playing their parts like professional actors,
Known as the horses of lonely valley,
Mares Foals and stallions the broadcasters,
Through instinct they take flight thundering noise
Echoing around the valley threat acknowledged,
Followed by kicking, whinnying full of joys,
In the distance two foals chasing each other
Being watched by the lead mare with poise,
The magnificent stallion quite astonishing
Alert of any take over expectancy deploys,
Constantly strutting up and down mares and fillies
Grazing watching these negative thoughts destroys.
Rhyme scheme
abacadaba
Estephania was the Spanish horse,
with a chestnut coat and mane
and a lighter long tail...and she ate
alfalfa for strong teeth and bones.
She was domesticated, losing her liberty
and neighing she showed keen ability:
to spot dangers on a perilous path...
Estefania even stopped for a stranded cat.
In summertime she fed mostly on grass,
but bees stung her many times to protest,
and struggling to get them off her tail...
she hit a shrilling raven in the head.
And feeling sorry for the dying bird wincing,
Estefania licked his semi-open eyes...giving
him a little comfort as he folded his wings;
and whinnying she wept a river of tears.
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